Dear Mr. Previously Owned Automobile Peddler:
I should have known what an ass twitch you were when we exchanged cards after you drove straight into the side of the car. Yep, I looked at the name and it said “Carman Dick Stump”.
“Carman”, you encouraged me to not call the cops and quite honestly (and very stupidly) I agreed because
(a) you were clearly at fault
(b) you said we could settle this ourselves
© I was on my way to pick my boyfriend up from radiation treatment. He was puking and I was late.
Imagine my surprise when I phoned you at work, not asking for “Carman” but requesting to speak to DS. You got on the phone and told me that your passenger videotaped the whole thing and that I shouldn’t have been speeding in front of the courthouse. Further, you suggested that surveillance cameras outside the courthouse would have caught my illegal driving.
I thought, “Thank you, Mr. Stupid. You just gave me the hope of evidence that would pull me back from the stupidity abyss for not calling the cops in the first place.”
Sadly, no luck on the video tape; however, the traffic cop I spoke with confirmed my suspicion that I’m an idiot.
Carman, you agreed to meet me when I got an estimate. My ex-husband went along with me. You didn’t show. Now a half Lebanese half Irishman who speaks Farsi and Arabic and is an interrogator is more pissed at you than I.
Now you won’t take my phone calls. The person who answered said you didn’t show up for work and probably wouldn’t return. When I had my sister phone (and ask for Carman, not DS), you magically appeared.
Fuck you, ya fuckin’ fuck. You pushed me over the edge at a time when I’m not thinking clearly.
It’s only going to cost about $400 to fix the car, so I should be pleased that the lesson wasn’t more dear. Well, I’m not.
Dearest Carman, please know that I will torment you. My ex- will fuck with your life in ways you couldn’t possibly imagine in Feebleworld. My boyfriend will puke chemo laced bile on your desk. And my father will kick your sorry excuse of an ass 'til next Tuesday.
Karma, Carman. Or might I call you Dick?